Chapter 70: Part 1

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Madeline didn't know what he had on his mind. She felt trapped by his words and actions. She told herself not to be scared and not to show fear. She had heard how the night creatures lived on the fear of the people who were beneath them. Though most of the things he had listed out had been true, but not everything was right. She had never meant to cause trouble in here by knocking things around, but the King had twisted the situation to his advantage, and maybe this was a lesson she had to learn.

She had to be extremely careful while dealing with Calhoun as he wasn't anyone but the King of this land who was clever with his words. If she wasn't careful with her words, the man would only twist them and make her feel guilty.

Somewhere her mind said he was right that she could have stayed near the maze and called out his bluff, but she had been upset over his lie and deceit because it only showed that he would never let her go and yes, she was foolish to believe him. To think that he would offer her, her freedom which belonged to her and not to him.

"Does your conscience ever say anything to you?" she questioned him, a question that was bold and something no one would dare to ask the King. And Calhoun didn't mind it, she could see it in his eyes.

She had thought of doing things that would irk him enough to have him let her go. But if she continued to defy him, it would lead to situations like these, like the one right now.

Calhoun stepped one step closer to her, his eyes looking down at her in a challenge where he could see the spark in her eyes, "You take the liberty to speak to me knowing I will not hurt you the way I hurt others, but that doesn't mean I don't have other means," his voice was low and deep as he said this, "I thought you would be a quiet one, but it is good to see you try to rebel and get away from me. The more you struggle, the more it will make me want to hold you."

Madeline softly gulped but didn't tear away from staring at him. She was the prey here who had to watch her footsteps. Staying still was the sanest thing to do that would not have him pull out his fangs from snapping into her neck, which he was yet to do.

"You twist my words to your benefit. You know I am right," she whispered, her brown eyes silently glaring at him.

Calhoun smiled at her words, his lips twisting into a smile and his tongue swiping across his canines, "You might be right, but that doesn't mean you are wrong," she gave him a confused look hearing this, "You will understand it in time but right now let's not waste any more time."

Even Madeline was tired of iterating the same words of hers to let her go and how it wasn't her fault. Her efforts would only turn futile, and it made her question that if this was it. Was she supposed to give up? To accept this was her fate, and there was no escape to it?

She saw Calhoun's red eyes that were staring at her with double the intensity, a mixture of anger, annoyance as well as amusement with a pinch of wickedness in there. She had thought to play this on his terms and find her freedom, but Calhoun made it impossible. Her inner mind taunted her 'No one asked you to knock the paints and his painting down', and she had to shut it close.

She then heard Calhoun say,

"It wasn't any painting that you ruined but something that I took a great deal of time and effort. I hope you understand the weight of your actions," Madeline did, and she heard him continued, "Taking account of your actions since you arrived at the mansion towards the King, as punishment you will be the model, the muse for the painting I make. You will listen to the demands of how it wants to be done."

Madeline glared at him, "What do you mean muse?" She already knew what Calhoun was indicating, and she could only hope it is not what she was thinking it to be.

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"It is exactly as you heard. Don't worry. You will not have to lay down on the bed," the big bad wolf smiled at her, his eyes shining at the sudden paleness of her face.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked him.

"You will learn to not lie to me," came his straight forward reply.

"And I told you, I was scared of what you would do to him," responded Madeline back, her eyes growing anxious, "How do you want me to react and tell that the man I...I have affections for had come here for work when I have seen you behead people."

Calhoun's eyes hardened when she spoke about her affections, "They were all done by keeping your best interest. You should be grateful that I haven't summoned the man back here to run a trial on him and kill him with my bare hands."

"I will hate you," Madeline's words were quick, and Calhoun smiled.

"Yes, you will, but whose fault would that be? Trying to provoke me is not going to end well, sweet girl. I don't even have to use my hands but frame him and put him on the scaffold. How are you going to say it was me?"

"You wouldn't do it."

"Try me," Calhoun raised his eyebrow, "I am being nice."

"By tearing me away from my family."

"Be glad that I haven't done anything more than that."

Calhoun raised his hand, and she was quick to close her eyes to feel his hand on the side of her head. Her heart had started to run wildly again, which it was doing quite often in his presence. She heard him say, "One of the maids will help you in how I want you to be my muse today," his words were gentler and patient this time, but it didn't stop her jittering nerves. Her heart shook even though he wasn't being rude or intimidating with his words, but Madeline knew this was only to coax her.

Calhoun then stepped back to leave the gallery of paintings with Madeline behind. In less than five minutes, the maid who had been hovering over her since morning appeared in the room.

"Milady," the maid named Agnes bowed her head to make her presence known.

Madeline, who had her back facing the maid closed her eyes. Her hands clenched together before she turned around to look at the maid. There was no point in resisting when things would only get worse. After twenty minutes passed away, Madeline was asked by the maid to sit on the couch which was indirectly instructed by Calhoun. Though Calhoun had said she didn't have to lay on the bed looking as if she had been held in someone's arms, she didn't see how her current state was any different.

She sat with both her legs placed on the couch and her golden blonde hair was left open. Her clothes had been discarded, leaving her only in her petticoat.

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